Bruised and Blues
by Kuro49
Summary: AU. Peter/Neal. Neal is singing up on that stage when Peter enters the bar.


Beside the whole AU setting, I have this head!canon that instead of El, Peter met Neal first, this is how it would go. (I think I might write something like that, set more in the White Collar universe.)

_One for my Baby_ belongs to Johnny Mercer and Harold Arlen (sung by Neal and June in Countermeasures, S02E13) and White Collar would the world's _crappiest_ show if I owned it.

XXX

**Bruised and Blues**

XXX

He has his hands wrapped around the microphone when he takes his first step into the bar.

The rain is heavy outside, drumming a low thump beneath the piano keys. The lights are dim, flickering yellow bulbs casting long dark shadows against the worn wooden floors. He shakes the water from his jacket, the air smells musty and the door shuts behind him.

It's not a quarter to three, but the song starts like this.

He takes a seat at the bar as the small crowd quiets into a murmur. The lights don't get dimmer but the atmosphere in the room slows to something out of this world. They all seem to hold their breath and it isn't until the man starts to sing that they all remember to breath. The singer up on the little makeshift stage is not loud but his voice carries through, something low and tantalizing as the piano plays.

(And he's no siren, but Peter's not a sailor either.)

He wants to look away but he is reeling him in. Dark hair slicked back from his face, white dress shirt folded up to a better part of his arms, and an unbuttoned black vest that sways as he sings.

It is the second verse in when he opens his eyes, slow as the lyrics fall from his parted lips, curling and curving into a half-formed smile. He has the microphone cradled in his hands.

And it's electric when he finally looks at him.

"Pretty, ain't he?"

Peter nearly falls off of the stool he is perched on, the word startled can't even begin to cover what he feels. And when he turns away from staring at the stage, he is caught up in another pair of blue eyes.

Different, and very much the same (in all the ways he can't place.)

"…Yes?"

She has a round face where he has cheekbones, she has a sweet smile when his is telling only half the truth. He can see it in her eyes, he can see it in his.

"No need to be shy," she swipes a towel across the tabletop between them, and Peter catches the name tag pinned against her chest, _El_ continues, "Neal is our eye candy around here."

"Neal?" And usually, Peter doesn't sound like a tongue-tied idiot but there is always a first, second, third time in these things. (And didn't they say, third time's the charm and whatnot.) He follows El's gaze and he finds him staring at bruised red lips a breath away from brushing up against the metal of the microphone.

He imagines something closer to the zipper of his pants.

"Beer?"

"Thank you." Peter murmurs in reply.

000

"_So make it one for my baby… And one more for the road…"_

Somewhere the music disappears until there is only the rain, still beating that heavy sound over their heads. Somewhere, someone gives a catcall and the spell breaks over the crowd. Somewhere, somehow, he is more charming than alluring as he takes a dramatic bow for his audience and smiles something that is innocent and filthy all together.

The clapping brings them all back, Neal swipes a hot red tongue over his bottom lip and Peter turns back to his beer.

"El?"

From the corner of his eyes, he knows just who has slid into the seat right next to him. But Peter is stubborn, he doesn't believe in luck or fate. El puts down the glass she has been shinning, "your usual, love?"

"Hmm… Surprise me, why don't you?"

And Peter is a realist, he doesn't see El's quirk of her head in his direction, he also doesn't see Neal blinking his eyes at El in surprise. (None of them believe in love at first sight, but they are all romantics who aren't too subtle in their ways.)

"Did you like that?"

Peter narrows his eyes before he slowly turns his head to his left, where he sees curiosity swimming in the blues. He has his head tilted to the side, baring a tangible amount of skin, and his smile is what heartbreaks are made of, Peter warns himself.

"…I can't imagine who wouldn't."

"I didn't do the song justice though."

There is a soft sigh that escapes, Peter wants to look away.

But he continues and Peter is enraptured in the way his body radiates heat.

"It's meant to be a duet, you know?" He leans closer in at Peter's hesitant nod, and he doesn't smell like sweet perfume, just adrenaline and the rain. "But it's a shame, Moz, my pianist, hates making new friends."

"That's too bad… I guess."

They both jump when El sets down a drink between them, dripping wet with condensation. And Neal comes to himself first as his eyes look at the brown bottle sitting in front of him. "Beer? You know I don't—"

"Something new." She cuts him off with something akin to foul play, smile hidden by the way her eyes gleam in amusement.

"Well," he picks up the bottle in his hands when El turns away and looks expectedly down at the identical drink in Peter's hand, "my name is Neal."

"Peter Burke."

The glass clinks, the rain doesn't stop, and somewhere, some one less distracted writes a song that conveys everything that they feel.

XXX Kuro

I still hate how ff.n cuts out my spacing.


End file.
